MyFoxSTL

Many of you know that I have a group of students firing away with political commentary on MyFoxSTL. But their blogging duties are only a small part of the coursework for the J4420 Editorial Writing class. They also try their hands at the wide range of commentaries they will at some time be called upon to write.

And last week they brought tears to my eyes.

A death in my own family reminded me that the editorial least popular to write but most important to a community is the memorial. We often cope with death as a community even more poorly than we cope with it as individuals. It falls to the journalists, poets, novelists and preachers to publicly put death into a perspective that allows the rest of us to live.

So I asked my faithful 18 to write a memorial about the passing of a person, place or thing. Their choice. I mean, how personal could it get? They're just kids.

It was the hardest assignment to read I have ever faced. While these wonderful memorials will likely never be published, the body of work from these caring souls deserves my tribute.

Joel's farewell to a friend who committed suicide was both gut-wrenching and heart-rending. Pamela's description of how she dealt with a sister's death an ocean away touched me. Megan talked of the personal agony of going off to college while a high-school friend had only death from leukemia to look toward.

Several memorialized the great or put tragic events in perspective. But I succumbed to my age. At 56, I have two children and two grandchildren for whom I work with my heart and soul to build memories .

My students taught me that grandparents do indeed live on through the young ones they cherish. I read of Alzheimer's -- but only after Molly's memories of the sharp man her grandfather had been. Kyle's love for his grandmother showed us that some bonds endure even when a family is rent asunder. And Stephanie -- well let's say her memory of her grandfather's scrambled eggs hit home:

"I miss him. I miss him all the time. The close bond that I shared with my grandpa does not compare to any other bond I’ve had with anyone in my life. It’s incomparable. He lived an accomplished life and if he had the choice, he’d live forever.
Although my grandpa is no longer around, the smell of those tasty scrambled eggs lingers. Maybe I’ll scramble some up today. Maybe you can’t taste those eggs, but hopefully this gives you a taste."

It did.

Clyde Bentley, the MoJo Prof

The MoJo Prof

The knowing young

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